


Descent Into Madness Part One

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Things Unwanted [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Lurk, Caning, Dark, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Eurus Isn't Trustworthy, Experimentation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fucking Machines, Growing list of toys used in non-con/dub-con manner, Kissing, M/M, Psychological Torture, Psychopath Eurus, Riding Crops, Rosie is Safe, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9563660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: 5 years on and relationships have changed.But as Sherlock gets closer to John and Mycroft gets closer to Greg, they drift from Eurus.All she wants to do is play.





	1. Goodbyes

Sherlock sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "Why do we have to do this?"

John wandered in from the kitchen and dumped Rosie on his lap, she was sucking an ice cube on a stick, an idea of John's that kept her entertained while waiting for dinner. "Because we're a family now."

"Boring."

At the knock on the door, John moved to open it. Letting the DI and Mycroft in, he stepped back into the sitting room. "Behave, Sherlock, I don't want you teaching Rosie how to be annoying."

The little girl giggled and Sherlock gave her a wink. "Remember what I told you to say to my brother."

"Sod off, Mycroft!" Rosie called out proudly.

John groaned. "Sherlock!!"

Behind the government official, Greg burst out laughing. He looked towards John sympathetically. "Which one's your kid?"

John rolled his eyes and headed back into the kitchen, "Do you want a beer, Greg?"

"Ta." Greg held out his arms to Rosie. "Come here, precious. You don't want to stay with that lanky git."

"Uncle Greg!" The little girl ran to him and jumped up into his arms. "Did you bring something for Sherlock to do. He's bored."

"He's always bored."

She thrust her bottom lip out. "He's funny when he's bored.

"Brother dear, do move your feet."

Sherlock scowled up at him, quite comfortable with his feet on Mycroft's chair. "No."

Shrugging, Mycroft brushed his brother's feet aside and proceeded to sit in the chair anyway. He looked over at Rosie, who was watching him and made a silly face. She giggled and squirmed down from the DI's grasp, climbing onto Mycroft's lap instead.

"Finished getting involved, Mycroft?"

The government official glared at him. "That worked out well for you, didn't it?"

Sherlock glanced towards where John was stood with beer.

"Be nice, boys. No bickering in front of Rosie. She doesn't know it's how you two say you love each other." The doctor handed one of the beers to Greg, rolling his eyes. "Some things never change."

"Love?" Sherlock poked his tongue out and winked at the girl on Mycroft's lap. "Bleurgh."

Rosie chuckled. "Bleurgh."

"Jesus, Sherlock, would you grow up?"

"Never."

"Why Mummy insists on calling you the adult, I'll never know." Mycroft sighed as the little girl hopped down again. She must have got her restlessness from Mary, because John was more than capable of sitting still for a few moments.

"Before you know it, John, you're going to be stuck in the middle. Rosie'll run one way and Sherlock will run the other."

"And I won't be able to catch either of them."

Rosie ran to her dad and demanded his attention, jumping up and down in front of him.

"Nope, go to Daddy, I'm cooking."

"Nope," she sounded just like her dad. "You drinking adult juice."

"I'm about to start cooking, sweetie, and it's not something you can help with, but you can help clean up after." John bent and kissed the top of Rosies head. "You and Daddy can wash the dishes together."

Sherlock's head snapped up. "At what point did I agree to participate in this pointless affair?"

"The part when I proposed and you agreed, you plonker."

"I like washing with Daddy. We splash a lot," the little girl told no one in particular.

That softened Sherlock's scowl. "Yes, we do." The detective regarded his brother in the brief silence that followed. "You look tired, Mycroft."

"I'm fine."

"Rosie, come over here," Sherlock held his hand out still watching his brother.

"Is it Eurus?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No."

Sherlock pulled out his mobile and opened an app. It was a game that Rosie loved. She had to find clues so that she could move from 'room' to 'room'. For a five year old, she was quite good at it. "You're a terrible liar, Mycroft," Sherlock's attention was on the girl sat on his knee but the government official knew better.

"There is nothing wrong, little brother, do shut up."

Glancing at Greg, Sherlock raised an eyebrow. The DI gave him an almost imperceptible shrug, indicating that he, too, knew something was wrong, but not what.

"Stuck, Daddy."

Sherlock glanced down at his phone. "How far have you got?"

She tapped at the screen, opening the different compartments, showing the detective the keys and codes she had found. "But where do they go?"

"You get exactly one clue. You know our rules." Sherlock dragged the 1895 to the small lock that was affixed to the blue box and it opened. "You have to figure out the next bit yourself."

She stuck her bottom lip out.

John appeared at the door and laughed. "That's karma for you."

"Is not."

"She's seen you sulking far too many times."

"I don't sulk. I go into my Mind Palace and think." Sherlock touched his finger to Rosie's bottom lip. "Stick it out a bit further and I could sit on it."

"Daddy!" Rosie giggled.

The detective smiled at her even as he talked to Mycroft. "Should I visit our sister soon? Take my violin? I know something is bothering you, Myc."

"She hasn't touched her violin in days, Sherlock."

"I don't have to take mine. I could just talk to her."

"She doesn't talk."

"When do I get to meet Aunt Eurus?" Rosie asked. She was curious about the woman she had heard mentioned, but never seen.

"Never!" the four grown men barked in unison, causing the little girl to quail.

John stopped what he was doing and scooped Rosie up. "Sorry, honey, we didn't mean to upset you. You didn't do anything wrong. Aunt Eurus is very ill, that's all. You simply can't see her."

"Will she ever get better?"

"No, sweetie, she won't," John told her gently. The thought of letting his daughter near the youngest Holmes… John shivered at the thought of it.

"Why does Daddy get to see her?" She hid her face in John's jumper.

"Daddy is grown. And it's... safe for him to see her." John felt 'safe' was a bit of a stretch, but he had to keep it simple for Rosie. "And before you say it, no, it's not fair."

"Being little is boring."

Sherlock glanced up at John, the fleeting image of Eurus walking in and snatching the little girl from under their nose appearing in his head. "Being boring is safe," Sherlock replied.

That made Rosie's mouth fall open. Daddy never said things like that. He hated being bored as much as she did.

John changed the subject by turning the little girl upside down in his arms and passing her to Greg who took her by the ankles. "Now what do we do with little girls who are bored?" He took her over to the sofa and dropped her. "We dump them!"

Rosie chuckled as she landed on her back and Greg began tickling her.

"Something's wrong, Mycroft. Haven't you realised keeping me in the dark is the quickest way to cocking up?"

The government official covered his face with his hands, which were shaking. "You're right, of course. All it's ever done is put you and those you love in danger."

"That's not what I meant. You've got it into your head that you've got to deal with everything alone. I'm not a child anymore, Mycroft. I can cope with adult things."

"I never said you couldn't."

"Then quit insulting me and tell me what is going on."

"Our present company is inappropriate for such a discussion," Mycroft said, looking pointedly at Rosie. "Perhaps we could relocate to the your room or even step outside," he suggested.

"Greg, are you ok for a minute?" John checked.

Greg just nodded, still tickling Rosie.

John walked off towards their bedroom, taking Sherlock by the hand.

With resignation, Mycroft followed. This was a conversation that he didn't relish having, not one bit.

Once they were safely ensconced in the shelter of the bedroom, Sherlock ordered, "Speak."

"As I said, Eurus has quit playing entirely. She sits on the floor and broods. At the mention of you, brother mine, her spine stiffens and I get a sense that she's thinking hard, about what, I don't know. If Greg or John are mentioned... she starts to rock. I don't know what to make of it, but I don't like it."

"Maybe I should-"

"No. I don't trust her."

"You've never trusted her and I've seen her lots of times."

"No, it's different now."

"How? It's been 5 years, Mycroft."

"Don't you think I know that!" Mycroft shouted. He immediately regretted his outburst. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, John. That was uncalled for. It's hard for me to admit that I don't know what to do, even now."

Sherlock placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "What we do is go visit her together, you and me. Maybe it will get a different reaction. Maybe it won't, but we're family and we're sticking together."

"I'm not so sure."

"Would you rather our parents go? Dad still doesn't understand what's going on."

"God, no." Mycroft shook his head emphatically. "I don't want them near her until we know what she's thinking."

"I don't like it," John stated. "I don't like the idea of not being there with you."

"If you're not with us, she can't use you against us," Sherlock pointed out. "Though I doubt she'll get a second chance to do something like that. Still, it doesn't hurt to be safe. You stay here."

"Sherlock-"

"Please, John. Stay here with Rosie."

"You aren't going right now. I've just cooked dinner."

The detective sighed. "Fine."

A compromise having been reached, the three men returned to the living room where Greg and Rosie were engaged in a game of Jenga. Just as they entered, the little girl pulled a block from the tower and it came crashing down.

"Dad, did you see that? Gavin cheated!"

John shook his head. "If I had known… never mind. Sherlock, please be a better influence on our daughter."

"She's clever. That's not my fault. Your genes I'm afraid."

"So if Rosie is clever and she has my genes, you just implied I'm clever," John said smugly.

"I should have said your genes mixed with Mary's," the detective clarified. "Together you created a brilliant child."

"I think it was Mary's doing."

"Maybe."

John clocked him on the back of the head, good-naturedly.

"I don't want her growing up and being good at what we do."

"Why not? Isn't that the safest way to protect her? Prepare her."

"I didn't say I want her raised defenceless," John clarified. "I just don't want her going out of her way looking for trouble. If she can take down a man twice her size with nothing more than a well placed knee to the crotch when she's older, I'm all for it, but I want her to have a normal life."

Sherlock smirked.

"What, Holmes?" He growled.

"Normal life? You were married to a very impressive nurse with the skills of a super-agent and now you're engaged to a psychopath of similar ability. There's nothing remotely normal about either of us."

"Oh, ho, ho. I thought it was sociopath and that's a load of crap anyway. You're as sociopathic as I am. Git. If you don't believe it, I've seen you wallow in guilt over..." John broke off and glanced at Rosie. "Things. Things that are well left in the past. Now get your arse over here so I can hug that ridiculous notion out of you."

Rosie saw the expression on Sherlock's face.

"Daddy?" She ran forward and wrapped her little arms around his legs.

"Well, with two Watson's hugging me, who am I to argue?" He reached down and ran a hand through Rosie's hair. "I believe Dad has finished cooking. The least we can do is eat." That was one area he actually tried to set a good example for the little girl. He no longer argued about or put off eating. Or maybe it was the fact that he and Mycroft had something to do once the food had gone.

He sat down at the table and Rosie immediately climbed on his lap.

"Nope, munchkin, get on your own seat."

Rosie pouted, but climbed onto her booster chair. She had almost outgrown it, but she was small for her age, having taken after both her parents.

John served everyone and they made appreciative sounds. He and Greg drank beer, Mycroft and Sherlock wine and Rosie had a glass of chocolate milkshake.

But all too soon the food was gone and both Holmeses were getting edgy.

"Am I missing something?" Greg asked.

Taking the hint, John took Rosie's hand. "Come on, we can wash up."

"Sherlock and I are going to Sherrinford," Mycroft announced. "Something's not right with our sister."

"Oh, bloody hell." Greg ran a hand through his silver hair as he leaned back in his chair. "I don't have to tell you how much I don't like that. I worry every time one of you goes there on a good day and now you tell me something's not right. Jesus!"

"We have to know!" Mycroft growled and then closed his eyes. "I haven't been there in over a month, but all the reports are the same, she's either more ill or plotting something."

Greg looked over at Sherlock. "And what do you think about it?"

"I concur with Mycroft," the detective said simply.

"And that says everything I need to know right there." The DI ran a hand over his face. "You're leaving now, aren't you?"

"The compromise with John was eating first."

Mycroft leant over and wrapped his arms around the DI.

Sherlock got to his feet and went in search of John and Rosie.

"Come here, Daddy's little girl," the detective said, crouching down. "Uncle Myc and I have to go away for a few days. We have to leave right away. It's your job to make sure Dad and Uncle Greg don't get too lonely. Can I count on you for that?"

She smiled and nodded. "Where you going?"

"To see our… mummy and daddy." Sherlock kissed her on the forehead. "Go and see uncle Greg."

When she'd run off through the kitchen John grabbed Sherlock by the collar of his suit and pulled him upright, quickly wrapping his arms around him. "Don't take any unnecessary risks, babe. Please."

"I won't. I promise. It's not just you. I have Rosie to think of now." Sherlock pressed their lips together in a kiss. "I'll miss you, John."

"I love you." He smiled slightly. "Now go. Before you have me in actual tears." He shoved the younger man towards the door.

"Come on, brother-mine. Things to do."

Sherlock and Mycroft jogged down the stairs without looking back. Sometimes it was best to set sentiment aside. Otherwise, they would never have been able to leave their little family behind. Together, they climbed into the black sedan that had been waiting by the kerb. Greg would have to find another way home.


	2. Déjà Vu

"Why does this feel like goodbye?" Sherlock asked, wrapping his arms around his knees.

Mycroft glanced sideways at his brother. "It's not."

"It certainly feels that way."

Mycroft watched the London scenery go by. "Past experiences. Old associations. Five years ago it nearly was goodbye for some of us, perhaps most of us." He gave a visible shudder. "At times like this, I wish I could pray."

Sherlock barked a laugh. "The world must really be coming to an end."

Mycroft glared at his brother, but when Sherlock's smile didn't subside he joined him in laughing. 

Sooner than they would have liked they were pulling up at the helicopter pad.

"I hate arriving at Sherrinford at night," Mycroft said to no one in particular as the helicopter approached the pad. "Not that there is a good time to arrive."

They climbed into the helicopter once it had landed and donned the headgear that would allow them to communicate whilst in flight. They didn't need it. Both of them were staring out of opposite windows at nothing but the black English sky. 

It wasn't until they began to descend that Sherlock spoke. "Haven't we got a plan?"

"What kind of plan do you propose?" Mycroft shook his head bitterly. "I don't know how to plan where our sister is concerned, loathe as I am to admit that. Beyond the standard protocol for interactions with her, I have come up with nothing."

Sherlock stared at the looming prison. "Well… the first time I came here, I got to be a pirate. This time we're walking in through the front door."

"We have no reason to believe the facility has been compromised this time." Mycroft gave a shudder. "If we had, well, I would hardly be walking in through the front door as you put it."

"I wonder how we would sneak in again. Hijacking that boat was literally our only option."

Mycroft chuckled nervously. "Sometimes I wonder if keeping her here is the best idea. I can't keep an eye on her."

"Like you kept your eye on Jim Moriarty?"

"Fair point."

"You can't keep her in London. Imagine if she were to get out." Sherlock shuddered. Even though he had enjoyed his walk with his sister as "Faith", it had all been a ploy. Eurus had had an agenda and had followed it precisely. It could have taken any form, it could have been lethal. Not just for him but for John or Mrs. Hudson. He supposed in a way, it had been lethal. For the governor and his wife. For those three brothers. It nearly had for Mycroft too. He glanced across at him as the helicopter landed. "You've never spoken about it."

Mycroft took the headphones off. "What?"

"Sherrinford. That day. You tried to convince me to shoot you."

They climbed out of the helicopter as it's propellers slowed to a stop.

Mycroft tried to shrug it off. "What was there to talk about, baby brother? You needed John far more than you needed me."

"You can't always be right, I suppose."

Sherlock walked off ahead and Mycroft paused, frowning. "I was right," he yelled after him.

"If you were right, big brother," Sherlock called over his shoulder, "then why did I try and shoot myself?"

Mycroft jogged the few feet necessary to catch up to his brother and caught him by the arm. "Sherlock, I knew you loved him. I couldn't let you shoot him. That you cared so much for me-" He swallowed hard. "I did understand it that day. After."

"Eurus never understood family."

"Neither did we."

Sherlock looked away. "I had a family, but when Mary died it all went away."

"I know."

"But I still had you. That never changed. You even told me on John's wedding day. You said I'd see you more after. Eurus never understood because she knows no better. She wasn't giving me a choice of two. Without realising it she gave me a way out - us a way out."

They stood outside the main door, side by side. The time for talking was over.

"Ready?" Sherlock asked.

His brother nodded. "Ready." Mycroft scanned his access card and stepped forward for a retina scan.

"I wonder how those work," Sherlock mused.

Mycroft just rolled his eyes and pulled him into the building.

"But seriously, brother dear. An eye is an eye."

Mycroft strode up to the security desk and flashed his badge. "Inform the governor that my brother and I are here to discuss and meet with Eurus Holmes. I expect him to meet us in his office."

"Yes, sir."

"His office?" Sherlock asked as they walked off. 

"Yes…"

"John told me it was your office."

"We saw where getting cocky got me." Even so he walked in a different direction to the governors office. 

Sherlock snorted, it didn't take him long to realise what he had done. 

"Besides, we've no evidence that this particular governor has done anything wrong. Yet," Mycroft cautioned.

"We had no evidence last time. You didn't even believe me until you were surrounded by men with guns."

"Does John tell you everything?" 

"When it concerns you lying to me, damn right he does."

"Touché, little brother." Mycroft sighed. "I had that coming."

"Still, you listened enough to come with me. You didn't discount what I had to say completely." Sherlock stopped just outside a great glass room. "Is this it?" he asked, tilting his head towards the heavy door.

"You know it is."

"Well, I thought I did. Maybe you'd moved her cell?"

"What?" 

Sherlock nodded through the small glass hatch. As Mycroft peered through it, seeing the empty room, he felt the sense of deja vu. The sounds of several heavy footsteps behind them made the pair spin. 

"Are you ever right?" Sherlock growled, raising his hands. 

Mycroft didn't have a response for that.

This could not be happening, was the only thought going through the elder Holmes' head. Not again, not to his baby brother. He couldn't have cared less about himself. At least, that was how he felt until he remembered Greg waiting on him to come home.

"Mr. Kanda?" The government official was beginning to feel sick. 

The new governor paced up between his men surrounding the two Holmeses "Mr. Holmes, Eurus sends her thanks for making it so easy."

Mycroft's knees were about to give out from under him when Sherlock gave him a sharp look and said, "Steady." He turned his gaze to Kanda. "How's that? If you don't mind? What exactly made it so easy this time?"

"You just walked straight in."

"I wasn't aware my sister had… been causing trouble," Mycroft finished. 

"You didn't put many more security measures in place, did you, Mr. Holmes? Just put the glass back." He pointed down the corridor. "After you, gentlemen."

Mycroft walked off ahead, and Sherlock followed, just before he could reach down and take John's SIG from his waistband, he was nudged in the back with a rifle. 

"You don't mind if you leave your hands behind your head, do you, Sherlock?" The governor stepped forward and plucked the gun free. "What about you, Senior? Have any hidden tools around?" He asked of Mycroft.

Arms held out to the sides, Mycroft submitted to a rough pat down. His watch and pen were removed 'just in case', causing him to sneer in derision. "This is hardly James Bond."

"Oh, it's precisely that. We've seen Junior's fighting. And your resources are extensive. Now move along."

Sherlock was regretting this already. "Did nothing stand out as wrong here, Mycroft?"

"Why should it?!" He snapped back. "It's not like I could see her cell from my office."

"Why not! It wouldn't have been that difficult. You can see the inside of my flat."

"The logistics are more complicated," Mycroft hissed.

"Gentlemen," Kanda interrupted, "save the bickering for Eurus. She does so enjoy it."

"So you spy on me and not her?" Sherlock complained.

Kanda shouted, "Enough!"

Sherlock felt like a chastised school boy as he was shoved forward. 

Eurus grinned when her brother's were pushed inside of her new office. "Hello, brother dears."

"Eurus," Mycroft said cooly.

"You could have sent an invitation," the detective quipped. "Since you're talking again, you could have even sent a voice mail."

"Voice mail?" She let one eyebrow raise. "How trivial."

"Look, little sister, if you wanted to speak to us why did you stop speaking?"

"You never come together. Not since that first time. Mummy and Daddy do. But you two… you seem to hate each other's company."

"Or we have completely different working schedules," Sherlock retorted.

"I don't really think that's it," Eurus said, tilting her head to the side. "You were both so ready to die for one another. Isn't that strange? Would you live for one another? What limits would you go to to keep each other alive?"

Mycroft stepped forward, almost threatening, but he was immediately apprehended. "Get off!" He snapped. 

Sherlock huffed, looking the two people holding his brother up and down. "They're black belts in judo and karate, brother-mine, you don't stand a chance."

Eurus waved a hand imperiously. "Take my brothers and prepared them. Don't let them talk to anyone, especially each other." She spun around in her chair, kicking her feet. "Make sure they're clean. Mummy always wanted everyone to be clean."

"Eurus-" Mycroft was cut off by a punch to the face. 

"Oi!" Sherlock yelled, trying to do something - anything, before he too was grabbed and pinned back.

"Say bye bye to Sherlock, Mycroft. You won't be seeing him for a while, not until I have him nice and ready for you." She waved her fingers towards the older brother and he was taken away.

"Eurus, why are you doing this? Things were ok, everything was ok."

"You locked me up! You told me you'd take me home and you brought me here."

Sherlock tried to go to his sister, but the men holding him wouldn't let him. "I couldn't. I wanted to, but they wouldn't let me. People had died, Eurus. Believe me, if-"

"Your words hold no meaning. What is meaning? Only in actions can motivation be discovered." She gestured to the men holding Sherlock. "If he talks again, silence him. I won't listen to the babble of meaningless words. "Take him and get him ready, then put him back in with Mycroft."

Sherlock didn't like this. He didn't like the fact they'd been caught on the hop twice in practically identical ways. "Eurus!" Sherlock yelled, but the door shut behind him and the men holding him. He found himself actually wanting his brother.

The detective was taken to a utilitarian bathroom where he was ordered to strip and shower. He was forced to do so with his guards looking on. As such, he did so as quickly as possible, the whole time, looking for some advantage, but not finding one.

Sherlock was starting to regret getting close to Mycroft after all these years. He was just glad John and Rosie weren't here. He wouldn't say he was happy to let whatever was about to happen happen, but he much rather it than the alternative. The water began to run cold and he reached to turn it off, but one of the guards stopped him. "Not yet. Eurus' orders." Sherlock stood there until he was thoroughly chilled and visibly shivering. Only then was he allowed to turn off the water and exit the shower.

Sherlock shivered all the way up the corridor, completely naked. When they reached one of the glass cells, Sherlock spotted his brother who was sat in a different suit than before, but still looking equally… himself. 

"Sherlock," he breathed, seeing his shivering baby brother.

The moment they were locked in the cell together, Mycroft took off his jacket and draped it around Sherlock's shoulders. He pulled his brother to him and wrapped his arms around him, trying to provide some warmth. "Eurus, please," Mycroft called out, "let him have some clothes or at least a blanket." There was no response but the chattering of teeth. Sherlock's teeth. "Did they… do anything to you?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Not yet."

"You're absolutely frozen."

"I know. It's bloody uncomfortable."

Mycroft guided his brother to the corner where they sat. He settled Sherlock in the V of his legs and wrapped his arms around him again. "Unfortunately, I didn't get a clue as to what she is planning," he whispered into his brother's ear. "If something doesn't change soon, you'll need to put on this suit. I'll not have you getting hypothermic."

"Frankly, brother-mine, I think me being cold is the least of our worries."

A few minutes later the small hatch in the corner turned, revealing a violin. 

"Sherlock, play me something." Eurus' face had appeared on the screen outside the cell.

"How?" he asked as he got to his feet. "My hands are cold. They won't work properly." Sherlock went and picked up the violin. It was Eurus' very own. He recognised it as such.

"You'll have to think of something."

"You should have thought ahead rather than freezing him half to death," Mycroft admonished.

"You forget, brother-mine, I'm far cleverer than you."

Mycroft glared at the screen until Sherlock spoke. "Myc, you're going to have to play."

"I can't."

"You have to, hold it like this."

The government official took the violin uncertainly. He placed it under his chin as Sherlock instructed and let him correct his hold on the instrument. "Sherlock, you know I can't -"

"Yes, you can." The detective placed the bow in Mycroft's other hand and positioned it over the violin strings.

"Why?"

Sherlock shrugged. "We deserve this. We walked into it. Again. Now she wants me to play, I would play this."

He turned Mycroft's hand slightly and pressed his first and second finger over two of the strings. With his other hand, he guided the bow that Mycroft held. It was awkward, but they managed to play the tune that Eurus connected to Sherlock. They played and played and played until the detective started shaking so violently that he couldn't guide his brother's hands anymore.

"Eurus, enough!" Mycroft dropped the violin and began stripping his shirt off. As he did, the door opened and two guards rushing in. 

"2 hours, Mycroft," came Eurus' voice.

"2 hours until what?" he demanded. Or had it been 2 hours? He'd lost all sense of time in this place. "Where are they taking him? Eurus, if he doesn't get warm soon, he could die." He spun around the room, looking at the cameras each in turn. "Please."

It was clear Eurus was speaking into the guards' ear pieces because the pair threw Sherlock to his knees. "Hands behind your head," one ordered. 

Sherlock complied, but his hands were shaking. 

"If he stays like that for 2 hours, he can have his clothes back."

The guards withdrew and the glass slid shut.


	3. Breaking the Limits

Mycroft went and sat by his brother's side. He started to reach out and touch him, but Eurus' voice filled the room, "Touch him, and it will be 3 hours."

At that, the government official bowed his head. Sherlock's head fell too. It was almost like a war. Sherlock, Mycroft and John had won the first battle, this was clearly the second.

Every time Sherlock's eyelids started to fall shut, Mycroft started talking to him. He avoided stories of John and Rosie and even Greg, not wanting to draw attention to them. Instead, he talked about their youth and interesting cases that Sherlock had worked without John.

The position was becoming strenuous for the detective and he was struggling to not collapse on the spot.

"Sherlock, if you want to fall over before the 2 hours, you may."

The detective frowned at the screen with as much energy as he could muster.

"But be warned, Mycroft will be kept in much colder conditions if you do."

Sherlock shook his head. He could do this. He could. He could. He cou-

The detective gave a whimper and collapsed on his side, crying softly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Myc. I'm so cold."

Mycroft draped his jacket over Sherlock's prone form. "It's okay. Don't even think about it."

Mycroft wrapped his arms around his brother, not caring what happened next, he just needed to warm him up.

Within seconds, guards came in, and for some reason they were carrying Sherlock's suit.

"Eurus!" Mycroft yelled.

"2 hours and 3 minutes. Not bad, big brother."

"So we won after all," Sherlock said through chattering teeth. "That's nice." He didn't try to move, though, he was far too chilled for that.

It fell to Mycroft to dress his brother like a baby. He took care to be gentle with him as he pulled Sherlock's clothes on carefully. He also took his time, hoping to delay whatever was going to happen next.

They were left in silence for a while before the screen turned to static and the room filled with white noise.

"Oh wonderful," Sherlock grumbled.

Mycroft chuckled dryly, "At least we can speak freely. No one can hear us through this."

"I can't hear myself think through that," the detective complained. "I don't suppose you have paracetamol hidden in your cuff links."

"Alas, these aren't the cuff links I arrived in and, even if they were, they were merely cuff links." Mycroft gave a chuckle. "Although I find the idea appealing for the next political dinner I'm forced to attend."

"You've always told me off for recreational drug use."

"And you always told me drug use isn't usually fatal, it's addiction that is."

Sherlock chuckled slightly. "Touché."

Mycroft, his arm around his brother, was pleased to see that Sherlock had finally stopped shivering. "It should be safe for you to get some rest if you want to, baby brother. You're out of the danger zone."

The television came alive, showing John getting ready to go into the clinic. Rosie was nowhere in sight, already having been taken by Mrs. Hudson for the day.

Sherlock blinked dumbly for a moment before catching up. "Eurus, what have you done?!"

"Isn't that obvious, Sherlock?" The image was swapped with that of Greg. He was in his office at the Yard, growling at paperwork.

"Both of you be good boys now and get back on your knees."

The pair of them immediately did as they were told and put their hands behind their heads for good measure. They didn't want to risk triggering Eurus and her volatile plans.

"At least I'm dressed this time," Sherlock quipped.

"Eurus, what do you gain by making us do this?" Mycroft askrd. The screen turned to static again. "Bollocks."

"Mycie. Didn't Mummy call you Mycie?" Eurus asked over the speaker. "I don't understand about arbitrary lines separating appropriate expressions of love from the socially inappropriate. Tell me, Mycie, do you kiss this man?"

Greg reappeared on the screen.

"Do you hug him? Do you fuck him?"

Mycroft's breath heaved in anger as he knelt staring at the screen, he glanced to his brother who was looking on with what could only be called dread.

"Leave him out of this!" Mycroft snapped as the camera zoomed in.

"Answer my questions, Mycie."

"Yes! Yes, yes! To all of it." Mycroft wanted to hit something, kick something, but he daren't move and he daren't take his eyes from the television screen.

The image shifted to John who was walking down the pathway on the way to the clinic. Sherlock sucked in a breath, expecting it to be his turn, but it wasn't.

"Why don't you do those things with this man?" Eurus asked. "Sherlock does, so John must be good at it. Explain. I don't understand."

Sherlock closed his eyes, breathing through his nose. "Because if anyone went near him, I'd break their neck."

"What if I went near him? Would you break my neck, Sherlock? Your own little sister?"

"Nobody touches John," Sherlock stated firmly.

"Not even to express love?" Eurus appeared on the television. "Do you love Mycroft? I know you didn't kill him, but do you love him? Show me that you do. Kiss him like you kiss your doctor. Like Mycroft kisses his little copper friend."

"No."

"Why not? I asked you nicely."

"Because…" he glanced across to Mycroft. "That's not right."

"Do you need suitable motivation?"

"Why? I'm as inclined to kiss Mycroft as I am to kiss you."

"I don't want to be kissed. I've been kissed. Rather, I did the kissing. When I had sex that time, remember. I thought it was boring. But I want to see it from the outside. Perhaps I missed something."

The image on the television shifted again to show Greg. "I have a friend working in the office with Gregory Lestrade. If you don't show me what I want to see, I'm afraid my friend will inject him with a substance of my own design. It isn't lethal, but it is instantly addictive."

"He would never lower himself," Sherlock hissed.

"Just do it, Sherlock," Mycroft whispered. "Please."

Sherlock moved towards him, but Eurus cleared her throat. "Stay on your knees, Sherlock."

The brothers faced one another, still on their knees. Mycroft started to lean in to kiss him, but Eurus' voice stopped him. "Sherlock has to be the one to initiate it and I want it to be a real kiss, not just a peck on the lips. Make me believe you mean it."

The detective took a steadying breath, then he placed his hands on either side of Mycroft's face. "I'm sorry, he whispered, just before he pressed their lips together. Seeking with his tongue, he invaded his brother's mouth, not enjoying it one whit.

Mycroft closed his eyes, he couldn't believe this was happening.

"Alright, Sherly, you can let him go now."

Sherlock turned his nose up at the name.

"Again, we have, what Jim Moriarty called, a 'nick name'."

Sherlock shifted away from his brother.

"The look on your face clearly suggests you hate it, brother-mine. But why?"

"Jim used it in a derogatory manner," Sherlock tried to explain. "He wanted to belittle me, to make me feel inadequate."

"But how is it worse than your other names, William or Scott? See it's still not clear to me."

"It's a diminutive of my name! It's something you would call a child."

"But you are a child, Sherly. Mycroft's slow, but at least he can manage life. You live in a puny flat with a man that hates you and a kid that isn't yours."

"Ignore her," Mycroft hissed. "John doesn't hate you."

The detective ground his teeth. "I know that and Rosie is mine as much as John's. Love goes beyond genetics." In fact, he would be adopting her on the same day he married John, something the little girl was very excited about.

"What are you thinking about, Sherly? There's so many emotions running around in that crazy head, it's hard to tell what you're thinking."

"It's unimportant," Sherlock snapped.

"That's not how we play the game. It's time for a penalty. Go to the pass through, Sherlock. The guard has left you another gift."

The detective got to his feet and fetched what had been placed there. It was a riding crop. He looked towards the television where Eurus appreared, wearing her fake smile.

"Mycroft once asked me if I felt pain. I think the answer was no. But I've seen those images of that day in Smith's hospital all those years ago. The day John Watson beat you to a pulp. You felt pain then."

"Yes, I did," Sherlock said quietly, he wasn't about to point out that was more than just physical pain. He held the crop in fingers that ached, his grip was so tight. "What am I supposed to do with this? You don't need me to use this!"

"But I do. We've established that you feel pain. The penalty is to determine if Mycroft feels pain. I want to observe him. Have him strip down so that his back is exposed, then I'll tell you exactly what to do."

"You don't need me to do this," he repeated. "You know he feels pain."

"How would I know that, brother-mine?"

"You've taken over this place again. You've got access to all sorts of security footage."

"Let's leave it up to our brother, shall we?" Eurus tilted her head on the television screen. "Mycie, would you prefer Sherlock do as I say, or would you like my friend to make his move and drug your boyfriend? Boyfriend is such a strange word. Boyfriend. What do you say, Mycie?"

"You wouldn't know the meaning of the word friend."

Eurus shook her head sadly. "And you do? You go… in for that sort of thing now? Isn't that what you called it."

Mycroft glanced at his brother. "That was a private phone call 7 years ago. How on earth…"

"Time is running out," Eurus sang over the microphone.

At that, Mycroft started taking off his jacket. "You'll have to do it. I won't risk Gregory. No more than you would risk John." He stripped entirely above the waist, leaving his back bare and vulnerable. "We're ready, Eurus."

"Are you really? Sherly doesn't look too ready."

Sherlock was in the corner, leant back, his eyes closed and the crop dangling pointlessly.

"Sherlock, come on."

"You can start easy, Sherly," Eurus assured him. "All you have to do is hit Mycroft across the shoulder blades once. Now, you will be expected to hit him hard enough to leave a nice mark. I'll have no holding back on your part."

"What if I can't?" Sherlock asked, flexing the riding crop between his hands.

"Then one of my guards will come in and do it for you, and I assure you he won't be as gentle as you would."

"Just do it, Sherlock."

"I can't."

"Think what happened the first time we were here together. When we hesitated or deviated."

"You're my brother. I can't."

"I'm hers too."

When Sherlock still hesitated, Mycroft snapped, "Do it!"

The crop whistled through the air. Sherlock's stomach turned at the sound of impact it made and the small cry that escaped his brother's lips. This wasn't anything so dispassionate as an experiment on a corpse, this was him being forced to brutalise his brother and he felt positively ill.

"Sherly, keep going."

"I can't."

"You're useless, Sherlock," Mycroft hissed. "Just do it."

Sherlock knew it was the same ploy as before.

The screen flicked on and there was Greg.

Mycroft looked over his shoulder once more. "The governor, little brother. Not again."

Sherlock looked at the image of Greg and nodded. "Not again." He struck Mycroft over and over, each time pausing to see if it was enough.

Eurus just yawned and covered her mouth, feigning boredom.

Just when Sherlock thought his brother couldn't take any more, their sister gave a fake smile.

"Oh, didn't I tell you? You could have stopped ages ago. I already have all the data I need on our big brother's response to pain."

Mycroft's face was red, and he'd been crying for a while.

"Thank our brother, Mycroft."

The government official's head snapped up amongst his tears. So unusual at all, let alone in front of someone.

"Thank him for completing my experiment."

Mycroft didn't hesitate because he was truly grateful. Greg had been spared, after all. "Thank you, Sherlock, for helping Eurus complete her experiment."

The riding crop fell from the younger brother's numb fingers. He felt like the room was closing in on them. It suddenly was all that he could do to breathe.

"What's he doing, Mycroft?" Eurus tipped her head on one side. "Why's he doing that?"

Sherlock had sat back against the wall and wrapped his arms around his legs.

"He's unhappy, Eurus. He feels guilty." Mycroft went over and crouched down in front of Sherlock. "In fact, he may be about to hyperventilate." The elder Holmes tuned Eurus out and spoke to his brother. "You have to calm down now, baby brother. I'm not really hurt. Just concentrate on your breathing."

Sherlock's eyes were shut as he tried to block everything out.

Mycroft grabbed either side of his head with his hands. "Sherlock. Sherlock, look at me. You need to breathe. In and out. Like you've done before."

The detective nodded, breathing with his brother.

"You're expendid quite a bit of effort for something you once said was boring," Eurus observed.

Mycroft glared at the screen. "You aren't helping."

"Being helpful has no benefit for me. Now step away from baby brother, Mycroft."

"He's older than you!"

"He doesn't act like it, does he?"

"Yes he does! It's children who pull wings off of insects for sport. That's exactly what you are doing. Sherlock is above that."

"Mycroft, don't," the detective managed as he finally got his breathing under control.

"But, Sherlock-"

"What's the point?" He puffed, running his hand over his face, "she's no better than those kids that pull insects apart."

Eurus shook her head with mock sadness. "You two are so adorable. At least, I think that's the right word. I've never known when to use it before."

"Well you're hardly brave, little sister," Mycroft spat. "Ridiculing us from behind a camera."

"I think I'll stay right here. Ask your brother what happens when there's no glass wall between us. I'd hate to finish what I started with him."

"What is she talking about?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock looked at him with a weary expression. "When we first met, she tried to kill me. For a time. I was surprised when she stopped."

"I thought you had chips when you first met. You've always loved that."

"The first time we met in here. She went… she was like a ravaged beast and only stopped because she had forewarned the guards on the door."

"Aren't you proud of me, Mycroft, for having such foresight? It would have ended the game too soon." Eurus' eyes went unfocused. "You never played with me. Neither one of you played with me. I want lots of games so I can understand about playing." Her eyes sharpened back into focus. "But we're adults now. We have to play adult games."

"Making one brother beat the other is not a game, Eurus!" Sherlock barked, launching himself to his feet.

The youngest Holmes actually burst out laughing behind the screen. "That's precisely what it is."

A door opened to another room, causing both brothers to turn and look at it with trepidation.


	4. Entertainment

"I trust I don't have to tell you what to do," Eurus said over the speaker. "This should be familiar from the last time we played."

"And what if we don't want to play? You're a big girl now, little sister, isn't it about time you grew up?" Mycroft said snidely.

The expression on Eurus' face made Mycroft take a step back. "Put your suit back on, Mycroft, you always did look less childish in one."

On the television, a man bumped into John, knocking him down, whilst he waited for the tube. The man helped him back to his feet.

"He's one of mine, of course," Eurus said blandly.

Sherlock took his brother by the arm and dragged him into the next room, Mycroft grabbed the rest of his suit as they went. "How wide spread is her little fan group?" Sherlock hissed between rooms. "It's been a month since you've seen her last."

"Nothing's to say this hasn't been in action for months before that."

"It's like Moriarty's web," Sherlock grumbled. "It was hard enough destroying that."

"Well you know where Jim got his idea from now, don't you, little brother?"

In the centre of the room was a lone chair. A television hung from the wall and cameras covered every angle.

"Have a seat, Sherlock," Eurus ordered. "You should be as comfortable as possible for this next game."

"Couldn't you have done all of this last time?" the detective asked.

"Last time was… last time was good. This time will be great," she replied.

"How would you know what great is?" Mycroft yelled. He watched his brother as he eyed the chair suspiciously.

  
Eurus smiled on the screen. "This is the part of the game where Sherlock takes off his clothes again."

"But he's just got warm," Mycroft protested.

"Exactly. Wasn't it nice of me to give him that chance? I'm truly a kind sister."

"I thought Mummy had given birth to a psychopath when she had me." Sherlock tutted in disgust.

"John's already warned you about that, little brother," Mycroft told him.

"And what good's that done?" the middle Holmes asked.

"He loves you," was Mycroft's only rejoinder.

"Ah, and we're back to love… It's just a chair, Sherlock," Eurus said in a sing song voice. "There's nothing special about it. Or is that like the tree falling in the woods. Does it make a sound if no one is around to hear it? Maybe by sitting in the chair, you'll make it special."

Sherlock shook his head at his sister's strange logic, ditching the rest of his clothes before he went over and sat down in the chair. Nothing happened.

"Terror is a wonderful thing, isn't it?" Eurus mused. "You can be scared of an invisible monster or an invisible threat, but you're not scared of me."

"We don't have to like how you treat us, though. We don't have to want to play your games." Sherlock looked at his brother for support.

"Sherlock is right, little sister. You're missing the point of games entirely."

"The idea of a game is entertainment, is it not?" she asked.

When neither brother replied she smiled.

"Well that's precisely what I'm doing. Entertaining myself."

"Entertainment for all parties. Not torture for the majority and fun for you," Mycroft corrected her.

"Bit of a leap, that, Mycie," Either disagreed.

"Not really," he countered.

"But the torture hasn't begun yet." She frowned, positive Mycroft had missed the obvious. "Tie Little Sherly into the chair, Mycroft. Using the straps provided."

The government official eyed said straps, but it was Sherlock who spoke. "Bit numerous, Eurus. Now who's the scared one?"

"Oh, they're not because I'm afraid, Sherlock. The straps are for Mycroft's benefit."

Eurus' image disappeared from the television and both Greg and John appeared on split screen.

The brothers' eyes locked and, without another word, Mycroft began to strap Sherlock to the chair.

The buckles were so numerous that it took Mycroft a long time and a lot of fiddling to get him tied down properly. "You happy now?" He yelled at nothing.

Eurus' voice could be heard, but their boyfriends' images stayed on the screen. "You can go a bit tighter than that, Mycie."

"Go ahead," Sherlock whispered. "I'll be fine. You can tighten them quite a bit before worrying about my circulation."

Mycroft scowled, but set to work. "Don't let me get them so tight that you have trouble breathing," he cautioned as he tightened the straps across his brother's chest.

Sherlock just stared at him, that was exactly what Eurus wanted and they both knew it.

"Just to be on the safe side," Eurus began when Mycroft was done. A side door opened and two guards came in, one turned his gun on Mycroft who immediately stepped back, hands raised. The other began checking each strap individually.

The guard who was checking the straps looked down at Sherlock's lap, leering. His hand moved in that direction.

"No!" Eurus shouted. "You don't touch my brother."

The guard with the gun stepped forward and put the muzzle at the guilty man's head, forcing him to back away. Together they left the room, the door closing heavily behind them.

Mycroft rushed forward, kneeling in front of Sherlock, "You alright?"

"I'm fine, Mycroft. He didn't touch me."

The door slid open again and two different guards came in, one began fiddling with the base of the chair until he removed a panel. The other was going through a cabinet in the corner.

"Mycroft," came Eurus' voice. "Back up until your 5 feet in front of Sherlock. Then kneel down, your hands behind your head."

Sherlock couldn't see what the guards were doing, but Mycroft could. One of them came out with a large dildo, the other had some sort of a machine. The government official quickly deduced its purpose and he didn't like it one bit.

"Eurus, you can't do this to him. He's your brother!" Mycroft shouted.

"What happens now is entirely up to you. Either you use the dildo on him for 10 minutes, or my friends will have him ride the machine for an hour."

Sherlock's eyes widened as he glanced over his shoulder. The men were setting up the machine in case Mycroft failed.

The older Holmes crept forward, but was shortly stopped by the youngest. "Stay where you are, brother-mine. It is not your turn yet."

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want this. Only John was meant to touch him intimately. He knew he wouldn't be able to retreat into his Mind Palace and pretend that it was the doctor either. The idea of being fucked by a machine was repulsive, but he'd rather that than Mycroft do what had been suggested. He opened his eyes and looked at his brother. "The machine. Let them use the machine."

"Ah, ah, ah. There's more to the game, Sherly," Eurus sang over the speakers.

"It's an hour, 'Lock."

"I know," he whispered. "But I can't let you do it. It has to be the machine."

Mycroft inclined his head in understanding. "Ok."

The two men stretched Sherlock's hole out through the gap in the chair. When he was nearly loose enough they pressed the head of the dildo inside him, bolting it to the machine."

"Here's how the game is going to work. Mycroft is going to get back on his knees, like a good boy and watch. You're not to take your eyes off him, Mycie."

"If I do?"

His head snapped up as a new guard walked in wielding a cane. He stood to the side of the room as the other two left, leaving the machine on as they went.

"Sherlock will be subjected to 5 strikes of my cane, and a further 10 minutes on the machine every time you move or look away."

Mycroft swallowed, this didn't sound good.

"Hands back behind your head, Mycroft. Can't have you being too comfortable or it'll be too easy."

Sherlock closed his eyes, after all he hadn't been told to keep them open. That was soon remedied though.

"Sherlock, you have to keep your eyes open too. I understand that eye contact is essential to a loving connection in these circumstances."

"There is no loving connection in these circumstances," Sherlock spat.

It was just as Sherlock was beginning to groan that the government official began to ache, he was 46, hardly young anymore.

Mycroft kept his eyes fixed on Sherlock, but concentrated on the ache in his own knees and shoulders. It was a welcome distraction. He only wished he could close out the sounds his brother was making.

"Adults play these types of games all the time. Why do they make you so uncomfortable, Mycroft?" Eurus asked.

"This sort of game is usually played between consenting adults and most definitely not siblings."

"Why not? I read a paper once, a woman put her a son up for adoption, 20 years later she fell in love with him and they had children."

"That's… wrong," Mycroft declared.

"Why is it? Love is love."

"Children born from incest are rarely normal," he explained. 

"We weren't born from incest. We're are not normal."

Sherlock fought to speak normally despite the stimulation the machine was causing him. "You've no doubt educated yourself regarding genetics. You know what Mycroft meant."

"Why would I care?"

"Baby's are born with defections, Eurus, that's how wrong this is," Mycroft hissed.

His little sister just laughed. "Sherly is hardly about to get pregnant."

"How long has it been, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, sweating and shifting as much as his restraints would allow.

"I'm not certain. This place plays with the mind. Seven minutes, perhaps?"

"Seven!" He grunted.

"You should have let me, little brother."

"No. No I'm fine."

"I can tell you how long it's been, brother dear," Eurus sang.

"At what cost?"

"A single strike of the cane across your thighs would serve as payment. All you have to do is ask nicely."

"No!" Sherlock shook his head, sweat dripping from his curls. He would simply have to wait this ordeal out and endure.

"Alright, but dearest Mycie can't give you any more clues as to how much time has passed or I'll get very cross."

Sherlock smirked. "That more than suggests he was right then. Thank you, Mycroft."

The older Holmes, let the corner of his mouth tilt upwards. "Is that 1-0 Sherlock, little sister?"

Eurus made a gesture on the screen and the guard immediately sprang towards Mycroft. He brought the cane down across his clothed back three times with brutal force, knocking him to the floor.

"Enough!" Eurus called out, her voice loud and shrill. After a moment, she calmed herself and spoke with a flat intonation, "I believe that makes it 3-1 in my favour, Mycie. Now get back on your knees."

Mycroft screwed his eyes shut and groaned, his back was already sore from the cropping Sherlock had given him minutes before.

"Turn the device up," Eurus ordered and the man stepped forward, fiddling with the machine.

The detective gasped and tried to shift away from the insistent pounding to no avail. Soon tears were streaming down his eyes, not from pain, but from humiliation. He couldn't stand the thought of Mycroft seeing him like this, with his cock hard and jutting. Eurus didn't matter, she didn't understand it anyway.

"It doesn't matter," Mycroft told his brother. "I know your body is merely reacting to stimulus. This isn't something you would choose. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

Sherlock couldn't stop his glare.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Mycroft. Tell me, or the man with the cane steps forward."

"Shame," he whispered, looking away.

"What about you, Sherlock? Are you angry at our brother?"

Sherlock shook his head, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Use your words, Sherly," Eurus adminished or it doesn't count.

"No, I'm not angry with him. This isn't his fault."

"Oh, but isn't it? He let me take control of Sherrinford again. Doesn't that make him at least partially culpable?" Eurus tilted her head to the side. "I can have him beaten more if you would like."

Sherlock shook his head, panicked. "No! Eurus, please, no."

"Apologise to me."

"For what?!"

"Lying."

"Eurus, I haven't lied. I'm not angry at Mycroft. I'm just as to blame for not noticing a trap when I see one."

"Liar. You are angry. You are!"

"At myself!" Sherlock screamed. He wanted to come off the chair, reach through the television and shake Eurus, to make her see sense. Oh! "And I'm angry with you. For doing this to us. I thought you understood." He wriggled a bit, trying to shift so the dildo didn't hit his prostate. "I thought we had made a connection."

Eurus laughed. "A connection." She shook her head. "We didn't connect at all. There was 3 inches of glass between us."

"I came and saw you. All the time."

"And then you stopped."

Sherlock bowed his head, feeling the weight of the truth settle over him. He hadn't intended to stop coming, circumstances had dictated his actions. In retrospect, he saw that he should have found a way, as should have Mycroft, but the damage had been done. "I'm sorry. Things happened. We didn't mean to let it go so long between visits."

"Sorry. That's an interesting word. It's what children say when they're trying to avoid punishment. They very seldom mean it. Usually, they only mean they're sorry they got caught. I think that applies in this situation, don't you?"

"You're my little sister, Eurus!" Sherlock snapped around a groan, he felt his cock about to leak and blushed even harder. "Of course it applies. Mycroft can tell you how much I detest apologies."

"He does, little sister. Sherlock would rather do almost anything than apologise. But, please, accept mine." Mycroft looked on as his brother's cock spilled its release. His face flamed as red as Sherlock's did. "This is enough. Please!"

"If you want to know how long it is, there is always the option of my man with the cane."

Mycroft's eyes darted up to Sherlock's face, he looked him up and down then look down at the floor between his knees.

"I will point out at this point out at this time, that the hour has changed to an hour and a half, there is also 15 cane strikes that will be administered to Sherlock after that time."

"Why?" Mycroft demanded, outraged.

"As I recall, my dear brother claimed not to be angry at first. Liars must be punished."

"He didn't lie! He said he wasn't angry with me."

"And you believed that, Mycie. I'm amazed. At the very least, he's resentful. I can tell by looking at his eyes."

The entire time she spoke, Sherlock's body quaked and he shook his head from side to side.

"I also remember quite clearly, warning you what would happen if you did not remain in your position or if you looked away from baby brother. I have counted three so far, although I am sure I am being lenient there."

Mycroft snapped his eyes to Sherlock's face, determined not to look away again. "It's not fair to count when I was knocked to the floor."

Eurus shouted, "Life's not fair!" She hit the desk in front of her several times with her open palms. "If life were fair, you would play with me all the time."

The brothers shared glances.

"Is that what you're after, Eurus? A promise in exchange for letting Sherlock go?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You want this to be regular. You want us to hand ourselves over to you. For you to play."

Eurus' eyes lit up. "We have so many years to make up for and I have thought of so many games. What are little boys made of? Snips and snails, and puppy dog tails." Eurus' eyes went wide. "Is that true? I want to find out."


	5. Tempers Flare

Sherlock's body might have been in the room but he was too out of it to pay much attention. His cock was far too over sensitised and the constant prostate stimulation as the machine sped up was driving him mad.

Mycroft stared at Sherlock's feet, his hands wavering behind his head. He had to keep still. He couldn't let things get worse for Sherlock, and in the scheme of things, knelt with his hands in the air… there were far worse things. Like the situation his brother was in. He had it easy.

"Sherlock, is it worse or better if I talk to you?" Mycroft asked.

"Ngh, I don't know. You can't distract me. Worse, I suppose. It makes it more real." Sherlock shuddered. "Oh, fuck." His body spasmed and he came again, this time with less ejaculate, but with no less body racking force. "I want this to be over. Please, make it stop."

"I can't, little brother, I would if I could, but I can't."

"Oh you can," came Eurus' sing song voice. "Just agree to a weekend every month. Here. With me."

"On my own? Then of course."

"No no no. Both of you."

"Not a chance. What's to say what you do on those occasions won't be worse than this?"

"I'm not saying they won't be, brother-mine, merely asking how long you can stand it. Watching Sherlock like this."

"I agree!" Sherlock said, his voice full of tears. "Please, Mycie, please. You have to say yes." He was squirming, completely tormented. "Please, Mycie make it stop."

The fact that Sherlock was begging was too much for Mycroft. "I agree, Eurus. Now stop this like you promised!"

"I need more than words Mycroft. Words can be ignored."

"You can stay here. In charge. If you don't leave Sherrinford we won't bother you."

"Except once a month," Eurus added. "You've said it in front of a witness."

The man with the cane stepped forward.

"Eurus, please don't make Sherlock take the strikes with the cane. I'll do it."

"Oh, I'm done with that. My friend is going to turn off the machine, then you can administer what I believe is called after care. While you do, think about your promises and what will happen if you break them."

Eurus disappeared from the television to be replaced by the split screen image of Greg and John. This time the doctor was at the clinic, working.

"As if you have a friend."

Eurus appeared back on the screen, frowning.

"What was that, Mycroft?"

"Nothing." He closed his eyes.

"Try that again."

The government official's eyes darted to Sherlock where he sagged in the straps, the machine having been switched off.

"He's not your friend, Eurus, he's your tool," Mycroft said with resignation. If they were to be punished for what he had said, there was nothing for it now.

"I want friends. The next time you both come, I want Sherly to bring chips. We can all eat them together. I liked chips. Then we can play more games."

Mycroft began untying his brother from the chair, when he was done he gestured around the room. "This," he shook his head. "This isn't a game, Eurus, it's torture."

"Try, try again. I'm sure I'll get it right... eventually. Jim had lots of funny ideas for playing games. I liked him. At least I think I did. Maybe I hated him. I really can't tell."

Mycroft helped his little brother to his feet and steadied him.

"How you feeling?"

"Sore," he whispered, not giving their sister the satisfaction of complaining.

Sherlock moved towards his clothes with his brother's assistance. Since Eurus hadn't said he couldn't get dressed, he began putting on the suit. The entire time, he expected their sister to do or say something, but she didn't.

She just watched, the sound of cameras spinning around the edges of the room.

"Time to go home then, little sister."

"I never said you could leave!"

"But-"

"No buts. You haven't played with me enough yet."

Sherlock wilted, slowly dropping to his knees. He covered his face with shaking hands. "Please, Eurus, I'm tired from the last game. I'm sore and I'm thirsty. I need to rest."

"No."

"Bloody demanding little sisters. What is the point of them?" Sherlock glared at Mycroft. "We never should have come here."

"If we had waited any longer she would insufferable."

"She's insufferable now!"

"Yes, but our boyfriend's are alive."

Sherlock rocked back and forth on his knees, hugging himself before he gave a nod of acknowledgement. "You're right, of course." He raised his voice. "What's the next game, little sister?"

She clapped her hand and another door opened.

Sherlock walked with apprehension not helped by the fact he felt disgustingly dirty and wanted nothing more than a bath.

What he saw in the next room brought him up short. The walls were covered with photographs. Half of them were of him and John in various stages of ecstasy. The other half were of Mycroft and Greg in similar state. Sherlock closed his eyes to block out the sight.

Mycroft, too, closed his eyes. This was wrong. How was this even possible?

"Er, no, big brothers. Open your eyes."

As they did they stared at each other.

"In this room you are going to pick a photo of the other… couple and deduce where, when and how it happened."

"Jesus," Sherlock breathed under his breath. He stood frozen until the television switched to the familiar split screen image of Greg and John, then he lurched forward and plucked the first photo his hand touched from the wall.

Mycroft did much the same thing, his hand skimming along the wall for a moment, before he pulled a photo loose and held it before him.

"This is the most recent," Mycroft stated examining all the other photos.

"Explain Mycroft," Eurus ordered.

"Engagement ring is on the side, I know for a fact you didn't take it off for over a year and seeing as you got engaged 14 months ago… I think the conclusions I've drawn are fairly obvious, little sister."

"First, is he right, Sherlock?"

The detective glanced at the picture and nodded once. "Yes. It was a week ago."

"You haven't told us how it happened, Mycie. Do enlighten us."

"It was the first night the two of you had the flat to yourselves in months. You didn't have to worry about being loud. It was John that instigated it. He came up behind you and kissed your back. That was all it took."

Sherlock stared at the floor.

"Is he right, Sherlock?"

At the thought of John, Sherlock lost it.

"You know he is!" He spun on the spot and stared at the screen. "You know how each and every one of these… things happened, why and when. What the fuck is he point of any of this? All of it, it's all utter bollocks!"

"Sherlock-"

The detective cut his brother off with a glare and began trashing the room, ripping and taring every photo from the wall. Then he put his fist through the tv screen.

Sherlock stood there breathing heavily, holding his hand.

"Let me see it," Mycroft demanded.

There were some small cuts, but nothing that would require stitches. He had been extremely lucky. Extremely stupid but extremely lucky.

"I don't imagine Eurus is going to be happy with that display," the older brother said as he held Sherlock's hand tenderly.

"I know." He sighed. "I shouldn't have lost my temper. Did you hear that, Eurus? I shouldn't have lost my temper!"

Eurus didn't respond.

"Do you know, what, Mycroft? This is all shit. Shit and pointless!" Sherlock went to the nearest door and kicked it hard.

It slid back immediately, 4 guards rushing in.

Sherlock had a moment to glance angrily but apologetically in the government official's direction.

Hands raised, the two brothers were taken from the now destroyed cell into the next room, where Eurus was reclined back in her office chair.

"Mycroft, you may sit," she said, indicating a chair. "Sherlock, you may kneel at your brother's feet since you've been such a naughty boy. Naughty is the right word, is it not? Mummy used to say I was naughty when I broke my playthings, but how else was I supposed to see how they worked?"

Sherlock didn't speak, but instead dropped to his knees beside his brother, too angry to argue.

Mycroft felt entirely uncomfortable in the chair but he tried to relax, Eurus had enough control as it was.

"You, give Mycroft your handcuffs."

One of the guards immediately obeyed.

"I think you know what I want you to do with them."

"I'm sorry, 'Lock. Lean forward."

"Nice and tight," the youngest ordered.

"He's hurt his wrist, I can't-"

"Now, Mycroft! Or I will do it for you."

Eurus smirked, satisfied when Sherlock winced. "Now put your hand in his hair like Sherlock would with his imaginary dog."

Though doing so bothered Mycroft to no end, it didn't disturb Sherlock in the least. When they had been children, his brother had often calmed him thus whilst reading bedtime stories to him. He doubted Eurus knew it, it had happened after she had been sent away, during the period when he had still had nightmares.

Eurus watched the pair of them for a long while, before turning and speaking to the guard at the door. "Have some drinks brought through."

"Of course, Eurus."

She folded her arms, returning her attention on her brothers. "You two are so predictable."

"If we're so predictable, then send us away," Mycroft urged. "I would hate for you to be bored by our reactions."

The guard returned with drinks and set them down on the desk.

"Drink up, Mycroft," Eurus said, lifting one of the glasses to her lips.

Mycroft picked up the other glass and held it, loathe to risk drinking from it.

"Oh be serious, if I wanted to kill you I'd find a more… fun way."

"You can't just break your toys when you're done with them, Eurus, like you always used to."

"How was I supposed to know that the dolly's head was supposed to stay attached to the rest of it?"

Mycroft sipped the water first before offering the glass to Sherlock.

"Who gave you permission to let him drink?"

"Don't be tedious, little sister." Mycroft kept the glass at Sherlock's lips letting him drink his fill. "There, now he's refreshed and ready to... play." His lip curled on the last word.

"I don't want to play anymore."

Mycroft frowned, "but you-"

"Guards, take these two back to their cell."

"Eurus, no! We need to go home."

"Back to these gentlemen, at least that is what I think they are," she turned the screen on and Mycroft sighed heavily.

"Yes."

"I was going to let you go. But Sherly destroyed one of my playrooms."

Mycroft stood and let himself be led to the waiting cell. Sherlock wasn't so fortunate. He was jerked roughly to his feet and manhandled the entire way, then thrown roughly to the cell floor.

"I'm sorry. Some of my friends don't seem to like Sherly. I haven't been able to determine why. I don't like sprouts. I ate an entire bowl of them once just to be sure. At least I don't think I like them."

"You're insane," Mycroft hissed, helping his brother to his feet.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I think I'm more competent than Jim Moriarty ever was. Now, Sherly, get on your knees."

"Eurus, look at the state of him, he's exhausted."

"So? Being tired is no excuse. Knees, Sherly, now. Or I shall put big brother in the chair."

Sherlock struggled to his knees, his cuffed wrists making it difficult. If he could spare his brother that chair, he would. "Alright, Eurus, what next?" he asked in a tired voice. "I'm waiting."

She smiled broadly, "well, now you make up for that room you destroyed."

"How?"

"You don't move. Mycie can. But you will not. Back where we started, brother dears," she turned on her heel and walked out through the glass panelling.

Mycroft started pacing the room. He knew his brother couldn't last long, not as exhausted as he had to be, but there wasn't anything he could do to help him. When he noticed the room getting colder, he swore. They were back at the beginning indeed. "Why is it always about Sherlock?! Why not me?"

There was no response but Mycroft hadn't really been expecting one.

He sat himself down in front of Sherlock who smiled at him weakly.

"Jealous, brother-mine?"

Mycroft smiled. "No. But I wish I was. Do you fancy moving?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock's eyes were shutting.

Mycroft picked him up before the screen could come to life and carried him across the room to the bunk. He put him beside it so the younger man could remain upright on his knees but lean against it. Then he stripped his jacket off and placed around Sherlock's shoulders.

"Mycie," he moaned.

"She never said I couldn't move you."

Mycroft climbed onto the bed in front of his brother, legs splayed so that Sherlock slotted into the V. He used his hands to smooth back his bother's hair, soothe his hands, anything he could think of that might help. The whole time, Sherlock remained motionless, like a doll. He clearly didn't have the energy to do much else.

"Clever boy, Mycie, I wondered how long it would take you to find the loophole. Quicker than I had anticipated. I'll have to make a note of that."

Mycroft just held Sherlock close, this was ridiculous and his brother was already shivering.

"Eurus, how long is this going to go on for?"

"When will your boyfriends start worrying about you? Will they get concerned when you don't come home tonight? Or do they expect you to be gone for quite some time? I suppose they might call your friend, Mycroft. What was her name? Smallwood?"

Mycroft didn't react, there was no point.

"Answer me, Mycroft. When will they begin to worry?"

"Soon," he whispered.

Eurus actually cackled. "Don't lie to me, big brother, don't ever think you are capable of that."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Honest answer, Mycie or things get… more complicated for Sherlock."

"They aren't expecting us back until Sunday night."

"And it's only the middle of Friday night. Isn't that amazing?" She grinned. "We can play again tomorrow."

"Please, Eurus, Sherlock won't be any good to you tomorrow, not unless you let him get some real rest. Let him get warm. Let him sleep."

"He doesn't get clothes, big brother, but he is permitted to lay down on the bed. You'll have to keep him warm, I'm afraid. You can… what's the word? Cuddle."

Sherlock was too tired and sore to care as Mycroft helped him up to the bed.

"What do you say, Mycie? For me letting you rest."

"Thank you, Eurus." Mycroft nudged Sherlock. "Say it, baby brother."

"Mm, thank you." Sherlock's eyes had already slid shut and he clung to his brother for comfort. In his mind, he felt six years old again, being comforted by his big brother… But that had been the age he'd been when Eurus had been taken away.

"Shh, 'Lock, sleep, I've got you."

"Isn't it wonderful?"

Mycroft glanced at the screen. "Isn't what wonderful?"

"Your protectiveness over Sherlock."

"Could you ever be so protective of me?"

"I have been, little sister," Mycroft said wearily. "After what happened with the last governor, it wasn't easy to keep you safe." He rubbed Sherlock's back in a soothing motion. "There were people who though more permanent action should have been taken than locking you away again."

"And now you think they were right."

"No. I think I shouldn't have let anything come between us and visiting you. I'm sorry, Eurus. I truly am."

"Sorry isn't a word I understand nor care about." She reached out and suddenly the screen fell black.

Mycroft backed himself against the wall, pulling his little brother close. Sherlock had been quietly sobbing for a while. "Shh, little brother, I know you hurt, but just think. 36 hours. You'll be back with John and Rosie then."  


Sherlock nodded slightly, but didn't believe it. "How much is protecting her worth, Myc? She's my little sister… but she's not worth John. Or my daughter." It was the first time he had said that out loud in front of anyone other than John.

Mycroft bent to whisper into his brother's ear. "If she ever threatens Rosie, that will be the end of her, I promise you." The lights went out leaving them in darkness. "As for Greg and John, we'll sit down together and discuss it as soon as we're home. For now, rest, baby brother. This may be the only chance you get."

And Mycroft was seriously hoping that Sherlock didn't remember this little conversation when he woke up. Discussing this with Greg and John would likely be against Eurus' rules and even if it wasn't, they'd never allow it, but this… thing had to happen.


	6. It Was Wrong

Bright, obscene light filled the cell and a loud barrage of sound echoed off of the walls. Both Mycroft and Sherlock startled awake. The younger of the two brothers fell from the bed, unable to catch himself as his hands were still cuffed.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft yelled, rolling over. "You alright?"

The detective squeezed his eyes shut but nodded.

"Did you hit your head?"

He nodded again. Mycroft began massaging his shoulders as their sister appeared on the screen.

Eurus watched them for a few moments before she talked. "The look on Sherlock's face. What does it mean? Is he smiling?"

"No, he's not smiling!" Mycroft barked. "He's hurt. That's a look of pain on his face."

"Hurt? He's just woken up."

Mycroft ignored her and climbed down off the bunk. "I'm no good at this, little brother. How do I know if you have concussion or not?"

Sherlock shrugged. "That stuff got deleted."

"Is your hard drive shrinking, Sherlock?" Eurus asked.

The detective didn't deign to answer her, just leaned his head against Mycroft's knee.

"There's a doctor here, Eurus. Let him look at Sherlock. Please," Mycroft begged.

"Alas, Doctor Quinton doesn't work anymore. I think I broke him," she said confidentially. "Just keep our brother awake. I think that's what you're supposed to do."

"What do you mean you broke him?" Mycroft asked.

"Do you really want an answer to that question, big brother?"

"Headache, Mycie," Sherlock moaned brokenly.

"I know, Sherlock, but I can't do anything for it. Just try not to move too much and please, please stay awake."

Sherlock moaned and shivered, prompting his brother to drape his jacket around his shoulders once more.

"Mycie, would you explain something to me?" Eurus asked.

"How about this, little sister, piss off."

"Rude. At least I think that was rude. Why does me calling you Mycie seem to… irritate you, I think, but it doesn't bother you when he does it?"

"Because you don't understand it, Sherlock does." Mycroft didn't like how pale his brother looked. "Let me call someone. Let me call John for advice."

"Oh, you want to phone a friend. I'm sure he could help, but no. I'd hate for you to worry him."

"I'm alright, Myc," Sherlock whispered. "My head's clearing a bit."

"As dull as I may think it is, you two will want food. But, you've both got to earn it. Mycroft, get Sherlock on his knees."

Sherlock was wobbly, but Mycroft helped him get onto his knees.

"I'm alright, Myc. You don't have to keep holding me up. I'm not going to fall on my face." He gave his brother a half smile, trying to reassure him.

"I'd rather look stupid holding you than actually let you fall flat on your face," Mycroft argued.

"But then I'd be the one who looks stupid," pointed out.

"You two ramble on a lot, did you know that, brother dears?"

"Mycroft's fond of the sound of his own voice," Sherlock said. "He talks on and on."

The government official snorted. "You talk when no one is there. John says you talk when he's not even in the flat."

"How would John know I talk to an empty flat, if the flat is empty?"

"Be quiet!" Eurus ordered. "I'm bored already. Step away from him, Mycroft."

The television switched to the split screen view, showing Greg already at the Yard and John getting ready to do the shopping.

Mycroft backed away from his brother with alacrity, not wanting to test Eurus so early in the day.

"How easy things are when you two cooperate. Go to the hatch, Mycroft."

Cautiously, the elder Holmes wandered to it, inside was a key. "I assume you aren't stupid enough to miss the obvious."

"No," Mycroft grumbled.

"Good. But first you have to do something else. You've surely deduced that my interests are currently focused on games of an adult nature and the expression of love."

The television screen flashed several of the same photographs that they had seen the previous day in quick succession.

"Mycroft, please show me in a clear manner that you love our brother. Make sure it's something I can understand in the current context."

The government official stood there, looking confused. "Eurus, I don't know what you want me to do."

"You've already kissed him, so that clearly won't do. Touch him somewhere, like a lover would. I want to see how you both react."

Mycroft frowned down at the key. "Turn around, little brother."

Sighing softly, Sherlock twisted until Mycroft could get to his wrists. He groaned as they were released.

"Turn around again and I'll massage them."

Eurus appeared on the television, slamming her fists on her desk. "That's not what I meant!"

"Nevertheless, this is exactly what I would do were this Gregory rather than Sherlock. I would see to his comfort and ease his pain. That is what those who love one another do. Your understanding of love is now, as ever, limited."

"You're doing the same for Sherlock now that you would do for your… boyfriend. But you aren't touching him."

"Technically I am. And there's more than one kind of love. I love Sherlock differently than I love Gregory. And I love John differently again."

"So you do love his boyfriend. Isn't that… wrong?"

"No, my love of John is the fact he is the father of my niece. The partner of my brother."

Eurus' hands went to the sides of her head and she started squeezing. "I don't understand." She squeezed so tightly that she started screaming in pain.

"Eurus! Stop!" Mycroft yelled, jumping to his feet and stepping around Sherlock.

"No, no, no, no! Don't stop me! Someone stop me!" she screamed.

A guard appeared from nowhere and pulled her hands away from the sides of her head, holding them until she visibly calmed, then he let go and stepped away.

"Eurus, you need help," Mycroft told her. "Help that doesn't come from experimenting on us."

She shook her head. "Experimenting is the only way, even Sherlock will tell you that."

Neither of them replied.

"Go on, Sherly, tell Mycroft that."

"What I did was wrong, Eurus," Sherlock said, looking away from his brother guiltily. "I should have known it then, but I was an idiot. I'm just fortunate John forgave me."

"Sherlock," Mycroft said in a stern tone, "what did you do?"

"Baskerville."

Mycroft frowned. "Explain, little brother. Right now."

"I used your ID to take it over for a few hours."

"And did what…?" Mycroft was beginning to worry. He perched himself on the edge of the bunk.

Sherlock still couldn't meet his eye. "Conducted an experiment on John. I needed to know if the drug was in the sugar."

"Oh, Sherlock."

"He was terrified, Myc. Absolutely terrified. And I thought it was funny at the time. What does that say about me?" Sherlock's hands were fisted so tight that his fingernails were cutting into his palms.

Even as Mycroft shook his head, he took his brother's hands in his and tried to open them. "You're going to hurt yourself. Stop, baby brother."

"Why should I? What I did to him! It's no better than what she's doing to us now. What she did to us 5 years ago."

"What you did to John was… 10 years ago, little brother. And he's clearly forgiven you. And he clearly forgave you quickly seeing as I had no idea. More importantly, you know it wasn't right."

Sherlock shook his head. "But I didn't understand it, not until the moment I sat on the floor after I destroyed the coffin. Do you remember that? I said we were experiencing science from the perspective of lab rats. That's when I understood what I had done."

"Oh no, little brother," Mycroft crouched down beside him. "You knew long before then, you just didn't admit it to yourself. John knew too, why do you think he forgave you?"

Eurus began screaming on the screen. "You two aren't here for brotherly chats!"

Mycroft hugged his brother to him and looked over his shoulder at the television. "Alright, little sister. The sooner we get on with things, the sooner we can be done. You mentioned something about food, if my memory serves."

"Your memory is clearly fragmented!"

The government official frowned. "No it is not."

"I informed you that you'd have to earn it."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Doing what? And how is whatever you're about to do to us an experiment?"

"This experiment tests a different aspect of so called love. You will be provided with food enough for one. You may not share it. Only one of you may eat it. You must decide now who gets the food."

The screen went black again.

Mycroft sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. He fell back onto the bench and pulled Sherlock up beside him. "You should eat, Sherlock."

The detective shook his head slightly and turned away from the camera. "I've got concussion," he whispered.

"But you said-"

"I know what I said. And it clearly worked. She doesn't factor in pain or emotion into any of this. She can't."

10 minutes later the screen flashed to life. "Well then, boys? Are you going to decide, or do I need to add another 'Redbeard' to the equation?"

John and Greg were back on the screen again.

"Mycroft should eat," Sherlock said immediately. "I go days without eating. It drives everyone mad. Besides, eating is boring."

"And you, Mycroft, do you agree?" Eurus asked.

With a sour look on his face, the elder Holmes nodded. There was something about this he didn't trust.

"Handcuff yourself, Mycroft."

"What-"

"You're not getting food. Don't be silly. Sherlock is."

"Eurus," Mycroft panicked. "He can't. It will make him ill."

"Don't care. Handcuffs, Mycroft, or my friend will say hello to your boyfriend."

Mycroft ran a hand over his eyes, then picked up the handcuffs.

"Fasten them behind you back, please. Please is such an arbitrary word. It really holds no meaning. It's completely unnecessary when you think about it."

"Only unnecessary in these circumstances," Mycroft spat.

"You two are very odd. I don't even really need to threaten your… partners. You're both wracked with guilt anyway. Now eat, Sherlock."

A tray was brought in and placed on the bed, then the guard disappeared.

Sherlock shook his head. "I'm not eating."

All it took was for John to appear on the television for him to change his mind. Every bite sat heavily in his stomach. When he drank the juice that had been provided, it proved to be too much. His stomach started heaving and he feared he wouldn't be able to keep it down.

He wasn't wrong, within minutes he was leant over the side of the bunk, throwing up.

Mycroft, having not done the cuffs up despite Eurus' instructions, began to rub Sherlock's back.

A guard rushed into the room and pulled Mycroft away from his brother, none too gently. As soon as he had dragged him across the room, he cuffed his hands behind his back, then threw him down in a corner.

"Stay," he ordered, as if he was a dog.

Mycroft watched on, terrified Sherlock had made himself seriously ill. The detective sat back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Don't sleep, 'Lock!" Mycroft ordered loudly.

"I'm not," the detective croaked. "I just... need to... rest my eyes... for a bit." The room seemed to be spinning around him and the floor swayed. "John, I need you. My head hurts, John."

Eurus grinned on the screen. "Brother dear seems to be going mad."

"He won't be the only one then, will he?" Mycroft yelled, glaring at the screen. "Get these bloody cuffs off me and let me help him. Help our brother."

Eurus sat back in her chair and waved her hand.

To Mycroft's surprise, a guard rushed in and removed the cuffs, tossing them on the floor in case they were needed later. As soon as he had left, Mycroft leapt across the room and gently took his brother in his arms.

"Sherlock."

"John."

"No, baby brother. It's me. Open your eyes."

"No."

"Sherlock, you have to open them. Now!" He yelled.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he moaned. "Mycie? The light's too bright."

Mycroft used his hand to shelter his brother's eyes. "Do you know where you are?"

"Unfortunately." The detective shifted, sitting up. "I'd rather be in my Mind Palace."

"Yeah, best not. Eurus, the time for games is over. Let us go home."

"Oh no. Those two men you are infatuated with would know that something is up if you get home early."

"Little sister, I don't care. If you want Sherlock to come and play with you again, he needs medical care."

"I don't need to do anything. I don't even have to let you go."

Mycroft sighed heavily, twisting his brother around so he sat against the bench. Then he peered into his eyes, trying to work out what he could. "I don't think it's very bad, little brother."

"I know. It hurts, but I've had worse." Sherlock sighed heavily. "No offense, but I miss John. I'd wish he was here, but under the circumstances-"

"Best not," Mycroft agreed. "Has your stomach settled?"

"A bit," the detective affirmed.

"Is he better now?" Eurus was doing a great impression of appearing bored.

"Does he bloody well look better?" Mycroft snapped.

"She wouldn't know."

"In the absence of an answer, I will assume an affirmative." Eurus leaned forward and looked at the camera intently. "It's time for you both to get up. Our next game awaits in the next room."

Mycroft shook his head. "We're not moving."

Eurus shrugged. "I can wait all day."

Sherlock glanced at his brother, he ached, but he was sure things would be worse if they didn't cooperate. He was shaky, but Sherlock stood. "Come, Mycroft. There's no point making things worse." The door to the adjoining room opened and the detective started towards it.

With resignation, Mycroft got up and followed. "I hope you're pleased with yourself, little sister."

She was grinning broadly.

Mycroft stood and stared at the screen until it went black… as he stepped into the new room, it was to see a line of armed guards and Sherlock already on his knees.

To save time, he started to fall to his knees beside him.

"No, no, no, big brother. You get to stand."


	7. Impossible

Mycroft was so tired of these games. He simply wanted them to come to an end. "Fine, Eurus. What do you want us to do now?"

"One of the guards in front of you, doesn't have an armed gun."

Mycroft spun and glared at the camera.

"Deduce it, brother-mine. Without Sherlock's help."

"No."

"Is it time for suitable motivation again?" She smiled and one guard stepped towards the kneeling Holmes. He pressed the gun to the back of Sherlock's neck. The detective closed his eyes.

"Whichever guard you decide, will fire into the back of Sherlock's head."

For a moment, Mycroft froze, his heart stuck in his throat. "Eurus, I beg you, don't make me do this." The tremble in his voice was audible even to his own ears.

"The clock is running, big brother. Hurry. Scurry. Don't let me get bored."

"How long?"

"I've given you an answer to that question before."

Mycroft watched his brother for a moment and then tried to clear his head. He needed to focus. But this was so much harder than the last game. He walked between the 6 men in a row across the middle of the room. Even as he eliminated guard after guard, he grew more nauseous. Finally he turned and looked at the one already holding the gun on Sherlock. It had to be him, it had to, but if he was wrong... Mycroft doubled over, his stomach threatening to revolt, and pointed at the guard with the gun pressed to the base of Sherlock's skull. "Him," he croaked out. "I choose him."

"Tell him to do it."

Mycroft's eyes moved to Sherlock who was looking rather grey. "I… I can't."

"Now!" Eurus ordered. "Tell the winner to shoot your baby brother."

The other six guards made pointed noises and Mycroft could see that they had all taken aim on Sherlock.

"One of us is going to give the order. If I do, all seven guards will shoot him. If you want one man to, you have to give it first. I'll count down for you. Five. Four."

"You!" Mycroft yelled, stepping away and holding himself up against the wall. "You, you shoot him."

"Properly Mycroft. Three. Two-"

"Shoot my baby brother. Now."

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut just as the guard pulled the trigger. There was a click, but nothing more. Mycroft had been right. The detective sagged in relief, his heart pounding.

A short distance away, Mycroft had fallen to his knees. His arms were wrapped around himself tightly as he rocked in place.

Sherlock went to move, to comfort his brother, but Eurus cleared her throat. "No, Sherlock. It's your turn."

"What?" The detective's pounding head snapped up.

"6 guards left. Pick one to shoot Mycroft."

"But-"

"I lied earlier, two guards have no ammunition. Find the other one."

Sherlock immediately felt ill. He couldn't be certain that Eurus wasn't lying. What if all six remaining guns were loaded? He got slowly to his feet and approached the six guards. He walked around each one individually, aching to touch their guns and look inside their chambers.

"2 minutes, Sherlock."

Mycroft was a shaking shivering mess on the floor, and the guard that had previously 'shot' Sherlock, stepped forward and dragged Mycroft to the middle of the room by the scruff of the neck. Mycroft knelt, staring at the floor, trying to work out if it was better or worse that he had gone first as he felt the familiar cold muzzle at the base of his neck. It seemed no less terrifying knowing it was an empty gun.

"You," Sherlock said, picking the second one, he estimated he had 17 seconds left.

"Say it, Sherlock," Eurus warned.

He ground out through gritted teeth. "You. You shoot my brother."

Guard number 2 was the one Sherlock had picked and he pushed the other one out of the way, pressing his gun to the back of Mycroft's head. When the trigger clicked and nothing else happened, Sherlock fell to his knees in front of his brother. "Mycie, you alright?"

The government official nodded, eyes shut. This whole thing was mad.

"You can both have a rest for a minute," Eurus said lightly.

"I think you should let us go!" Sherlock snapped. "We've won. We've both got it right."

"You haven't won anything, big brother."

Sherlock froze staring at the screen. "What?"

The five remaining guards stepped forward and took aim.

"Eurus!" Sherlock yelled, raising his hand slightly. "What are you playing at?"

"Shoot my brothers," she ordered.

5 simultaneous clicks echoed around the room with no sound of gun shots.

"None of them were armed, Sherlock. You didn't win, you lost."

The detective started laughing. Though it made his head ache, he laughed until he cried. It was all so pointless and mad and there was nothing he could do about it, so he just surrendered to the laughter.

"Mycroft? What's our brother doing?" Eurus asked, puzzled.

Mycroft didn't answer, instead ge looked at Sherlock.  "Little brother, I don't think that is going to do your concussion any good."

Sherlock just laughed more. "I don't care."

The elder Holmes went to his brother and held him. "You have to stop this." As he tried to calm Sherlock, the guards filed from the room, leaving the brothers alone.

"Why? I could have just shot you in the head!"

"Yes, little brother, and in case it escaped your notice, I had to do the exact same thing to you!"

"I know!" Sherlock kept laughing and grasped his head. "Ow." His laughter cut off abruptly. "I'm so sorry, Myc. You shouldn't have had to do that."

"Neither should you, baby brother." Mycroft let out a sigh. He hoped Eurus would give them more than a few minutes to rest. A lot more than a few minutes.

"Mycroft," Eurus called absently.

"What do you want, little sister?"

"I want to give you the chance to earn some medical treatment for brother dear."

"Anything," he said instantly.

"So eager, Mycie. I really think you should hear my proposal first." Eurus gave her flat smile.

"It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, I agree."

"Break his fingers."

"What?" Mycroft looked up, outraged, having not predicted something so drastic.

"If you want him to receive medical treatment, it should be worthwhile, don't you think?"

"You don't want me to do that, little sister," he said as he looked into Sherlock's wide eyes. "I will if I have to, I swear it, but you will regret it as much as I."

"What do you mean?" Eurus asked, confused.

"You're supposed to be the genius. Surely you can figure it out. If I break his fingers, they'll never be the same, even after they heal. He won't be able to play the violin like he can now. He won't be able to play it with you."

Eurus frowned. "What does that matter?"

"Mummy and Daddy will one day want to know why Sherlock can't play anymore. I'm certainly not going to tell them. Deep down inside, you don't actually want to disappoint them. Do you?"

Eurus started pulling on her hair, going so far as to pull a few strands out. "Stop it! Don't talk about Mummy and Daddy."

Mycroft met Sherlock's eyes, willing him to trust him. He took his brother's left hand in his and grasped one of his fingers.

"Wait!" Eurus shouted. "Don't do it. Don't tell Mummy." Her voice sounded tiny, much like it had when she had been the little girl on the airplane.

Mycroft held his brother's finger with gritted teeth. "Eurus…"

"I said don't! Let him go at once!"

Guards flooded in through the doors and dragged the two brothers apart.

Mycroft supressed his smile of triumph. It was the first time he had got one up on his sister. As soon as that thought went through his mind, he noticed the guards were dragging Sherlock from the room. "No, Eurus! What are you doing?!"

"I can't trust you with him, big brother. You're a danger to Sherlock."

"What? No, I'm not!" Mycroft yelled out in pain as the guards roughly twisted his arms up his back. The door shut behind the others, but they didn't let Mycroft go.

Sherlock was surprised when he was dragged into Eurus' presence. She rushed over to him and grasped his hands, checking every finger to make sure they weren't broken.

Sherlock actually flinched back in shock. "Eurus… what are you doing?"

She didn't answer, just straightened up and disappeared for a moment. He tried to get to his feet, but a guard stepped forward and shook his head.

Eurus returned with her violin and thrust it into his hands. "Play it."

Sherlock took it from her uneasily. Eurus was so volatile and now he was in her presence, not the other side of a screen. The last thing he wanted to do was trigger some action that would actually get him or his brother killed.

Mycroft watched the screen from his position held on his knees in the last room as his sister interacted with his brother. He bit his lip, wanting nothing more than to look away, but not daring to.

Sherlock placed the violin to his chin and began to play, his hands shaking ever so slightly. Whether that was down to nerves or the fact Sherlock looked rough as hell, Mycroft didn't know.

The detective kept his eyes on his sister as he played. Her face smoothed out and went blank. It was strange, she wasn't trying to tear his psyche apart. She was simply listening, like a snake being charmed. He had no idea what was happening to his brother and it didn't help that they had been dragged apart because Eurus suddenly didn't trust him anymore.

"Do you have another violin?" the older Holmes asked as he played. "I've missed our duets."

"You shouldn't have stopped coming," Eurus said as she swayed.

"I'm sorry."

Her eyes snapped open. "I've already told you, I have no need for 'sorry's'."

"Eurus-"

"Be quiet and play, brother dear."

"Can I get off my knees?"

"No."

"You know, making me kneel at your feet is something Jim Moriarty would make me do."

"Where do you think he learned it?" Eurus asked. She stood and walked around her brother, then rested her hands on his shoulders. "He was so suggestible."

Sherlock paused in his playing, thinking deeply for a moment.

Eurus wrapped her arm around Sherlock's neck until he choked.

"Eu-rus," he croaked.

She tightened her grip a bit more and the violin and bow slid from his fingers. He gripped her arm, trying to pull it away, but he couldn't get enough oxygen and his fingers wouldn't grip properly. Just as the world started going grey around the edges, Eurus let go and backed away from him, pressing her back against the wall.

Sherlock doubled over, his hands flat on the floor as he coughed. "What w-was that for?" He choked out after a moment.

"You stopped playing."


	8. Dance

"Where's my brother?" Sherlock asked.

"Don't you know?" Eurus asked, her head tilted to the side. "Then again, you're not very bright."

"Eurus, please."

"He's in the little place. The place they put us when we're what they call bad." Eurus stepped away from the wall and ran her hand through Sherlock's curls. "It's dark in there and there's no room to move. Poor Mycie. I imagine he dislikes it. I think I did," she said with a far away look.

"He's in some sort of solitary confinement, isn't he?" the detective asked urgently.

Eurus smiled. "He's in the hell hole."

"Eurus-"

She tightened her grip until Sherlock winced. "Apologise."

"What for?"

"For speaking out of turn."

"What-"

"Now!"

"I'm sorry," his voice was tight, given the position of his neck.

"Good."

"Why? Apologies mean nothing to you."

"But having you under my thumb does."

Sherlock closed his eyes, resigned. He knew all he could do to help his brother was to comply with Eurus, at least for the time being.

"Do you dance?" Eurus asked apropos of nothing.

"No."

"Don't lie to me, Sherlock."

"Let me guess, you taught me that as well?"

Eurus laughed. "Maybe. On your feet."

"Why?"

She flicked the screen on with the remote. On the other side was a very small, very dark room. Mycroft was on his knees, handcuffed in the middle.

"Is that a cage?" Sherlock asked.

"My idea," Eurus stepped around her brother. "Now on your feet."

Sherlock staggered to his feet. After a moment, music started playing. He took his sister in his arms and started waltzing her around the room. After a couple of circuits, Eurus changed positions, placing her hands as if to lead, then she proceeded to guide her brother around the room.

Sherlock's eyes didn't leave the screen on the wall. It might have been dark, but Mycroft was clearly shivering. "Why are you doing that to him, Eurus? He's your brother."

"He's boring." Eurus swept them around the room in a great arch. "The oldest child always is. So I've been told. He thinks he can control everything, doesn't he? He's controlled you all your life."

"He's protected me all my life," Sherlock countered.

Eurus just laughed. "You grew up thinking you had a dog and him."

"I grew up thinking I had a happy childhood with a brother who looked out for me."

"I didn't," Eurus spat, shoving her brother away. "I grew up in a facility where they poked and prodded me. They tried to get inside my mind. My mind!" She pulled at her hair again. "They were like ants to me."

"Eurus, you killed Victor."

"He deserved it."

Sherlock shook his head. "You deserved this!" He waved his hands around the room.

Eurus' glare turned hard. "I want to play with you, Sherlock."

"You killed my best friend and then tried to kill me. You were 5!"

"Dance." She took him in her arms and started waltzing with him again. "Death doesn't mean anything. I thought you knew that. It's not the end of anything. It's merely a change in the state of matter."

Sherlock pushed her away. "You're worse than you were 5 years ago. You knew it was wrong then."

"Dance, with me, Sherlock."

"No." The detective ran to the nearest door. The moment his hand touched the door handle, it gave him an electric shock, one that was strong enough to bring him to his knees. He howled in pain, his body jerking spasmodically.

Eurus simply looked on, unmoved.

He jerked for a moment more, his eyes screwed shut.

"Guards!" Eurus called out.

Several guards hurried in, waiting on orders.

"Sherlock fancies solitary confinement as well."

The detective didn't fight, he couldn't as his muscles were still weak from the shock. He did memorise the path they took to the small cell. Gathering up some strength, he managed to fight being put in the cage that stood in the centre of the room, but he was soon overpowered. The cage door closed on him and he slumped back in the corner, catching his breath. He closed his eyes, sure his concussion had gone enough by now to at least get some sleep.

"Sherlock?"

The detective glanced up at the sound of his brother's voice. "Mycroft? Are you alright?"

The government official jerked the cuffs. "Apart from not being able to move. Yes."

"I'm assuming you're in an adjoining cage."

"Obviously."

"I need to sleep, Mycroft. I have to. If our sister will let me. John always wakes me up every few hours when I have concussion."

Mycroft frowned. "I don't like it, but alright. Although Eurus may have something quite different planned."

"Not for a while. She'll want to watch us being treated like dogs for a while first."

"Is it me or is she even more…"

"Mental."

Mycroft wished for a light so he could see his brother. Sherlock sounded to tired and worn down.

"Do you think she'll really let us go home this time, Myc? Or is this it?"

"Don't talk like that, Sherlock."

"Why not?" Sherlock snapped, crawling to the edge of his cage. "The possibility of spending the rest of my life without my boyfriend or my daughter is a rather depressing thought."

"And you think I want to spend the rest of my life without Gregory?"

Sherlock sighed. "Of course not. I'm... sorry."

"I know." Mycroft didn't add that they would likely either be going home on the morrow or they'd be dead.

"Can you get any closer to this side of the cage?"

"No. My wrists aren't just cuffed. They're tied to the floor."

"Tied how?"

"Padlock. I'd try and pick it, but it's behind me."

Sherlock fell quiet as he closed his eyes. There was truly nothing he could do about the situation. He let his mind drift to John and Rosie. The need to be with them was so strong it hurt. He let the living room of 221B settle into place in his mind and found them both waiting on him there. Before Sherlock knew it, his brother was trying to get his attention.

"Sherlock! Baby brother, wake up!"

The detective groaned, "Alright, brother dear, way to ruin my peace."

"You were asleep for almost two hours."

"Mm, I wasn't asleep. I was in my Mind Palace." Sherlock sat up a bit straighter. "And, yes, it's real. It isn't just some drug induced manifestation."

Mycroft stared straight ahead into the darkness. "Tell me about it."

Silence fell again and Sherlock closed his eyes.

* * *

3 more times Sherlock fell asleep and 3 more times Mycroft woke him up, but they were still trapped and it was still dark.

"Those things aren't as comfortable as you think, are they?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft had returned to tugging at the cuffs. "I don't think they're meant to be," he grumbled. "But it's my knees that hurt more."

A bright light came on, flooding the room. Both brothers blinked against its harshness.

"Are we all rested and ready to play a game?" Eurus voice came over a speaker as there was no television in the small room.

Sherlock ran his hand over his eyes, feeling better than he had that morning, but feeling bad for Mycroft. "No more games, Eurus. Just let us go home."

"But this is the last game, the best game." Eurus lowered her voice confidentially. "This is the game I've been waiting for."

Guards came in and released the brothers from the cages. They unbound Mycroft's wrists as well, then they guided them back to Eurus' cell.

Sherlock had to hold his brother up, his legs were barely functioning.

"It must have been 10 hours," Mycroft groaned.

"Middle age, brother-mine."

Mycroft managed a weak chuckle at that.

In the cell, Sherlock and Mycroft found their phones and a clean change of clothes for each of them. The television showed the split screen display of Greg and John going about their business.

"Eurus, what's this?" Sherlock asked, sensing a trap.

"Play time is almost over. If you are good boys, you get to go home."

"What do we have to do?" Mycroft asked warily.

"You have to promise to come back and play next month if you don't, I'll play with your boyfriends instead."

The two of them shared glances.

"Why?" Mycroft asked.

"I get bored. And you made me an offer, Mycroft."

Eventually the pair of them nodded. "Ok."

"Promise me," she ordered. "Promise me you'll both come back and play again."

The brother's exchanged looks, then nodded.

"We promise," Sherlock said, his voice full of sincerity.

"I do promise, Eurus," Mycroft affirmed.

Eurus appeared on the television and gave them her strange smile. "Then I'll play the game until then. I'll be what they call good."

The governor appeared next to her along with two guards who guided her away. At the same time, the door to the brothers' cell popped open.

Sherlock slipped into his proper suit and waited a little longer for Mycroft to catch him up, then he took off out the door, not wanting Eurus to change her mind.

Mycroft slipped into his jacket and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Sherlock, doesn't this seem a bit easy to you?"

"Too easy," Sherlock agreed. "Actually, I expect to get reminders to come and play over the next few weeks. If we don't follow through-"

"She'll hurt Gregory. Or John."

"Precisely." Sherlock sighed. "I wish I could bring myself to hate her. If I could do that, I could put an end to all of this."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow in question.

"If I hated her, I could kill her," the detective explained.

"Why don't you hate her?"

Sherlock froze just before the helicopter. "I don't know."

"You hated me for years."

Sherlock turned and faced Mycroft, the look on his face one of quiet sadness. "It's no excuse, but I didn't know what burden you were carrying. I'll never approve of your choices and I can't change the past. I can only be grateful for the present and that you are a welcome part of my life again."

Mycroft frowned. "You were meant to hate me more. When you found out about her."

"You expected me to. And yet you didn't have her killed."

"No, I just exiled her to the middle of nowhere."

"You've exiled me too."

"Can we never speak of that again?"

"You do realise it was our sister that saved me from said exile."

Mycroft's mouth fell open so that he gaped like a fish. After a moment, he closed it. "Good lord. She did." He turned to look back the way they had come. "Jim's little recording that was oh so timely. I was blind."

Sherlock smiled. "You usually are when it comes to the important things." With that he climbed into the side of the helicopter, leaving his brother gaping at nothing.


End file.
